


Too Close To The Fire

by Kissed_by_Circe



Series: Some Things Blossom In The Dark [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 14:12:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16477088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissed_by_Circe/pseuds/Kissed_by_Circe
Summary: Pale skin, burn scars – and vines and roses and falling petals curling around his right wrist and creeping up to his shoulder. “My soulmate likes to draw.”, he explains, as if he’d said it a thousand times or more.A soulmateAU where whatever's written/painted on someone's skin appears on their soulmate's as well - including Halloween make-up XD





	Too Close To The Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Just a lil tip for anyone out there who may wake up covered in sharpie doodles after a party *cough* like my friend Alex *cough*: get some lemon hand scrub paste, the stuff they have at garages and handicraft businesses. That shit works literal wonders (but not for Alex, who when to work like that) XD

Jon finds out about his soulmate on Halloween.

 

It starts out like every other day in camp, and he doesn’t even think about it – to be honest, he just forgot about it entirely, and none of his mates mentioned it either, apart from Edd, who told him how he wishes that he was home for Halloween, so that he could go on a trick-or-treat tour with his nieces a few days back – and so when the comments start, he doesn’t know what they’re talking about at first.

 

“Looking good, Snow.”

 

“You really in the spirit, aye?”

 

“Awesome job, mate.”

 

“Tim Burton fan, are ya?”

 

And a lot of laughter, giggles from Val and Ygritte, and people biting the insides of their cheeks to keep from grinning at him. It’s only when Sam sees him and ends the whole fun – for everyone knows what’s going on apart from him, apparently – because he’s too honest and too oblivious and too sweet and asks him why he looks like _a blue zombie with too much eyeshadow_ that he runs to the nearest mirror and, shoving a protesting Val aside so that he can look at his face properly that he finds out why they’ve been laughing.

 

Apparently, he has a soulmate.

 

Apparently, she’s going to a Halloween party tonight.

 

Apparently, she likes Tim Burton movies.

 

Because she painted her face to look like a corpse bride, and so his looks like one too.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m so sorry. I hope I’m not ruining something for you.”, he whispers to himself, before he takes the jar with the war paint and smears the first lump of the dark brown/olive/shit-coloured creme on his cheek.

 

* * *

 

 

“Miss Stark, a word please.” Mr Harlaw’s voice is soft and even, but there’s amusement in it, too, and she wonders _why_. Their current book is a wonderful novel filled with sadness and melancholy and _death_ , and she didn’t find anything funny in there, and Mr Harlaw, who’s always so somber and serious and horribly quiet, isn’t the kind of man that just makes japes, or so she thought.

 

But right now he’s almost _grinning_ , and her anxiety kicks in. Joff and his friends always made fun of her, and she likes Mr Harlaw too much for him to turn out to be just as cruel as her ex. Her hands shake when she follows him into his office, and her throat closes when he asks her “Do you wear make-up? Do you have some make-up, like, some crème that covers your entire face, here?”. She wants to cry, but she’s too strong for that, and so she just nods. “I have some foundation in my purse, if that is what you mean, sir.”

 

“Good, good. You should go and- and do whatever you have to do with your face. We don’t want Beth from HR to think that we’ve declared war on her because of the donut incident from last week, do we?”, he smiles, a real smile, and a kind one, too, and when she stares at him, confusion written clearly across her face, he adds “It looks like your soulmate’s in the army, and getting ready for a mission, so you- you better cover that up, okay?”

 

He’s just trying to help her, she realises then, because there’s something on her face that her soulmate put there, and that means that she _has_ a soulmate. After all this time, after Joff and Petyr and Harry, she finally has a soulmate. She grins like a madwoman, chokes out a thank-you and runs to the bathroom with her hands pressed to her cheeks, because she fears that there might be a dick or some obscenity painted on her face with sharpie.

 

When she stands in front of the mirror, and tries to cover the dark stains of war paint that cover the upper half of her face, she laughs.

 

Her soulmate’s in the army.

 

Her soulmate’s got a beard.

 

Her soulmate _exists_.

 

* * *

 

 

He freezes when Jon takes his jacket of and his gaze falls to his new co-worker’s bare arms. Pale skin, burn scars – and vines and roses and falling petals curling around his right wrist and creeping up to his shoulder. He notices Gendry’s stare, and shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “My soulmate likes to draw.”, he explains, as if he’d said it a thousand times or more.

 

“Dude. _Dude_. Just let me-“ Ignoring the surprise on Jon’s face he grabs the other man’s arm, and shoves his other hand deep into the pocket of his own jeans, searching for a pen or something like that. “Woah- hey, what you’re doing there?” “Just lemme- I wanna try something, kay?” Finally, _finally_ , he finds a sharpie, and pulls the cap of with his teeth. “I just wanna write something for her.”

 

Sighing, Jon surrenders, and Gendry scribbles some words on his hand, carefully avoiding the scars. ‘ ** _hey sansa, think I found him xo g_** ’, most of the letters shaky and the comma a long line because Jon moved too much. They both stare at the words, the crooked lines and the paler one, where the sharpie almost died, holding their breaths, and Jon whispers “Sansa”, just one word, but some much emotion in it that Gendry has to bite his lip to keep himself from grinning like a madman.

 

Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe there’s another girl out there that also likes to draw flowers on her right arm with liquid eyeliner on a Monday morning when she has the day off of work.

 

He lets go of Jon’s arm – the poor guy’s been through so much, back when he was in the army and all, another thing that would add up because Sansa’s soulmate wore war paint on several occasions, such as her parents’ anniversary party or Eddara’s naming ceremony – but he keeps looking at the words he wrote. Maybe he’s wrong. Or maybe he just found his future brother-in-law.

 

* * *

 

 

She almost chokes on her breakfast when the lines appear on her hand, and stares at them for a moment, not really seeing them. Seeing her own name on her skin is crazy – she never wrote it there herself, because your soulmate doesn’t see your own name, because of some rule or the other, to make it extra hard for people, because it’d be too easy if she could’ve just written her name, her phone number, or the name of her tumblr on there – and it takes at least four minutes until she realises that Gendry wrote this.

 

Her soulmate knows her name, and her soulmate is standing near to Gendry right now. She scrambles for a pen, her eyeliner, _anything_ , and when she finally holds some sharpie in her hand, she realises that her entire right arm is full, and writing on her left is almost impossible.

 

Coursing silently, she looks around, grabs her phone, her coat, her boots, and calls Gendry.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you with him right now? You didn’t let him go away, did you?”, she asks, and hates the desperation in her voice.

 

“He’s standing next to me. He wants to meet you really badly.”

 

“Okay. Are you at the garage?”, and now she tries to hide the nervousness in her voice. If she’s on speaker, then he’ll hear everything she says, and she doesn’t want his first impression of her to be bad.

 

“Yeah. He’s a nervous wreck, and I won’t let him get away.”

 

“I’ll be there in 10.”

 

* * *

 

 

She doesn’t greet Gendry, or even look at him. She just runs into the garage like the figurehead of a ship cutting through the stormy sea, stops dead when she sees Jon, and throws herself into his arms when he smiles at her, a smile full of warmth and hope and _love_.

 

* * *

 

 

“I- I’ll just let you- I’m in the back for a bit, okay?”, Gendry asks, awkwardly rubbing his arm, before he disappears. They don’t even notice, because they’re to busy drowning in each other’s eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

A few years and a calligraphy course later, Jon asks him to write ‘ ** _Sansa Lyarra Stark, will you marry me?_** ’ on the inside of his forearm, and Gendry almost cries.


End file.
